


Happy Birthday, You Dolt

by Kdarkdar



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Banter, Birthday, Court Sorcerer Merlin, Domestic Fluff, Fix-It, Fluff, Future Fic, Love, M/M, Magic Revealed, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 10:58:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14567538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kdarkdar/pseuds/Kdarkdar
Summary: “Rise and shine, you lazy sod,” Merlin teased, knowing full well that this had been his intention all along, “You’re going to miss your own anniversary, at this rate.” With a huff, the lump of man on the bed rolled over just to send a glare his way.





	Happy Birthday, You Dolt

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this in one night. Unedited. When did it 2 am? I'll probably rewrite this about three thousand times in the next week.

The castle bustled with activity; every corridor was filled with servants rushing back and forth to complete the preparations. It was King Arthur’s thirtieth birthday and the entirety of the staff had been informed that it was to be treated as the most festive day of the year. With the clanging of pots ringing from the kitchen, the yelling of voices, flustered and rushed, and the steady hum of excitement in the air, Merlin was nearly surprised to find that the King had slept through the morning.  


Nearly.  


Of course, it was all a part of his plan, to begin with. He’d had a hell of a time keeping the celebrations a secret. It wasn’t as if Arthur had no clue that his birthday would be an event, just that he didn’t know the extent of it. It had seemed to Merlin- and he liked to think that he was usually right when it came to his king- that Arthur was under the impression that he was getting old.  


He wasn’t wrong (the scars across his chest and the slight limp on rainy days were testament enough to that) but the sorcerer would be damned if he let him go on believing it.  


For weeks he’d been sure to deliver the instructions to the servants whenever Arthur was out training or tending to some dull matter that Merlin wanted nothing to do with. Not only that, but the night before he’d done his very best to wear Arthur out fully and completely to insure that he wouldn’t wake early enough to wander into the preparations down the hall, though that really wasn’t as much of a chore as it would’ve seemed.  


With a flick of his wrist, the curtains in the King’s chambers flew open, letting sunlight spill over the pale, decidedly naked body on the bed. There was a groan of dissent, but no other outward sign of consciousness, which only served to make Merlin laugh.  


“Rise and shine, you lazy sod,” he teased, knowing full well that this had been his intention all along, “You’re going to miss your own anniversary, at this rate.” With a huff, the lump of man on the bed rolled over just to send a glare his way.  


“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur complained, slowly waking, “If this day is to be dedicated to me, I should be able to spend it however I choose.” Merlin merely hummed in agreement.  


“And I’m sure the wisest decision is to lounge around all day,” he feigned consensus, earning a raised eyebrow from the blonde. Making his way over to sit on the edge of the bed nearest to Arthur, he grinned, “Even if it’s also the most efficient way to put another notch in that belt of yours.”  


Arthur promptly smacked him in the back with a pillow.  


“I am not fat,” he responded, defensively, unwilling to admit that they had, in fact, had to add two or three holes on his belts over the years. Merlin merely raised his hands in a sign of defeat, as if he didn’t want to start a fight. He continued to glare, but started to shift. Merlin knew that he was really winning.  


“Never said you were, Sire,” he replied, the word of reverence, itself, providing a tease. Finally, the tired man raised himself to a sit, making Merlin smile, softly, and lean in a bit closer. “Morning,” he greeted, properly, as if the first altercation had never occurred. He pressed a kiss to compliant lips, softer in the morning than they ever were otherwise.  


“Mmm… Morning,” came the response, after the few seconds it took them to draw themselves apart. Arthur blinked tiredly at his sorcerer, eyeing the grin that overtook his face with caution. “What’ve you done?” he asked, immediately. Having known Merlin for over a decade (and having known him intimately for almost half of that) he could easily catch that mischievous glint in his eyes.  


“Nothing,” Merlin answered far too quickly, with that idiotic grin still on his face. Before Arthur could even take in the breath to demand a more satisfying answer, Merlin was up digging through the King’s wardrobe for an outfit to suit the day.  


Arthur frowned and slid out of bed, making every effort to be as loud as he possibly could be- at least, that was how Merlin always viewed it. He threw his legs over the side, stomping his feet down on the floor before stretching and consequently popping every vertebra of his back. He then yawned, loud and low, before he finally stood in all of his nude glory.  


Merlin heard rather than saw feet trudging toward him as he refolded a few fraying shirts, thinking to himself that Arthur could use a fresh hem on some of his clothes. He would have to talk to Gwen about it when he got the chance- his sewing spells were beyond rubbish and he couldn't hold a thread steady to save his life.  


The strong, muscled arms that came to wrap around his torso were as surprising as the muttered, “Idiot,” that followed (which was to say, not at all). Merlin only rolled his eyes, used to the teasing abuses.  


Arthur had decided, somewhere between half-asleep and waking, that whatever nonsense Merlin had for him that day could wait. He nuzzled gently into the crook of his partner’s neck, making the man chuckle, softly, and pause his folding.  


“Arthur,” he scolded, “I am trying to dress you, you know.” Arthur huffed.  


“I’d much rather be undressing y-”  


“Enough,” came what was meant to be a stern reply. The laughter on his tongue seemed to kill all seriousness, though. The blonde huffed again, although there was a small upturn at the corner of his lips. When Merlin slipped out of his grasp, however, it turned to a pout that feigned hurt and indignance. “You’ve a busy day,” he reminded, which only spurred a shake of Arthur’s head.  


“Not if I say I don’t,” Arthur fought, “Who would dare to argue with the king on the anniversary of his birth?”  


“Me.”  


“ _Mer_ lin.”  


The wizard laughed, again, his spirits far too high for so early in the day.  


“Are you drunk?” Arthur accused, eyeing him as if he was actually considering the possibility.  


“Oi, Clotpole,” Merlin replied with a snort, “Remember who brings you your food. I’ve a right mind to slip you something that’ll have you braying again.”  


“Threatening your king is punishable by death,” he responded easily to the argument that they’d had what felt like thousands of times.  


Merlin smirked, falling easily into their routine, “Now, if you upheld that, I’d ‘ve been dead long ago.”  


“You do tend to be a pain in my arse.”  


“I could say the same,” the sorcerer winked, not one for subtlety.  


Arthur approached him, again, this time wrapping his arms around him from the front, pulling him against his chest. He held Merlin tightly, to ensure that he couldn’t escape this time and planted a smacking kiss on his lips. “You could,” he mumbled his agreement, after a moment. The mage sighed and gave in, letting himself be drawn into a proper kiss, slow and sweet and everything that a kiss should be on a day with no real responsibilities.  


Hands firmly on Arthur’s forearms, Merlin let his magic wander just enough to slide the lock on the door into place. The king pulled back at the sound of the click, only because the noise came from the door, but Merlin quickly reassured him. “Just me,” he answered before the question could be asked. It seemed that even after years of living among magic, Arthur would never adjust to the simplicities that came with having it in his life.  


Ignoring his partner’s foolishness, Merlin pulled him back in, deciding that everything else could, in fact, wait. After all, the celebrations could hardly start without the guest of honor. Pulling back just enough to whisper, Merlin gave one last smart remark.  


“Happy birthday, you dolt.”

**Author's Note:**

> Might make this a series of oneshots if it gets enough attention. Let me know if anyone is interested in a second chapter or a part two. I'd even think about writing a ficlet about his birthday if anyone wants it.


End file.
